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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807156">Your Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bachhukali/pseuds/Bachhukali'>Bachhukali</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:08:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bachhukali/pseuds/Bachhukali</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a tale dated back to the time of Moses, or maybe earlier, the time of Abraham. People who were blessed in a special way from God, after they reached their adulthood, would find two names appearing somewhere on their bodies. One of them would be their soulmates, and the other one would lead them to their doom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Your Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Original idea from Reddit and FunwanSss</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Jesus saw Judas, he had a heart throb that he’d never felt before. His heart thumbed against his ribcage from both ecstasy and fear, as if a seed which was buried deep and now couldn’t wait to break through the soil and bloom.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jesus was born in an ordinary Jewish family. His father Joseph was a highly regarded carpenter in their neighborhood with his skillful work and enthusiasm. His mom Mary, a typical Jewish wife, took good care of their house as well as Jesus and his siblings when her husband was gone for work. The family was by no means affluent, as what Joseph earned could barely send Jesus to the cheapest community school after feeding almost ten mouths. Nevertheless, Jesus had a happy childhood thanks to his affectionate and attentive parents. He enjoyed huddling with Joseph in his cramped workshop and learning how to carve wood and turn them into tables, chairs and oaken chests. When Mary started to prepare their dinner before sunset, he’d always help his mom with baking bread and grinding chickpeas. When he grew a bit older, their neighbors would see the young boy running and laughing with his siblings on the dusty roads or of Nazareth, dark curly bangs blown up by the wind revealing his ample forehead, and the hem of his white robe swirling in the air. “Look at Mary’s son!” They would smile with fond and envy, old men smoothing their grey beards while women humming to their babies.</p><p> </p><p>He thought about his life and expected it to be just like his father’s. He would inherit Joseph’s workshop when he grows older, marry a sweet and gentle girl like Mary, and build their own family and have children. He would pilgrimage to Jerusalem on Passover with his wife and kids, and at last, he would be surrounded by his loved ones and leave this world in peace. However, when he was eleven, for the first time in his life Jesus got a sneak peek into the future. In a prophetic dream, He saw deserts and bones, lemon peels and stones casted at him from every direction, and three crosses standing beneath the blood red sky. He was terrified as he turned around and ran away, with darkness chasing after him, haunting him like death, like fate. He was tripped by a tree stump and fell to the ground. The panicked boy covered his ears with scratched hands and squeezed his eyes shut in trepidation, slim body couldn’t help but shake frantically. Just at that moment, he was pulled into a warm hug by a pair of firm arms. The tension in his body gave away as he instinctively clung to the broad chest as if a drowning man clutching at a straw. When his heart was no longer racing wildly, he opened his eyes and looked up, trying to see his salvation. Suddenly those warm arms were gone, instead they moved slowly from his shoulder to the slender neck, and started to squeeze - </p><p>His brother James, who was sleeping beside him, awoke to his cries. His parents rushed to their small bed. Jesus clung to his mother almost immediately whilst blubbering, trying to tell her about the nightmare. He drifted off to sleep on that night as Joseph gently stroking his back and Mary humming lullabies by his side. It was not the only night that he dreamed of death, but he decided to keep it from his parents as he recalled the worried look on their faces. Two years later, the 13-year-old boy of Nazareth found a dark ink stain just below his left pectoral that he couldn’t wash away.</p><p> </p><p>It was a tale dated back to the time of Moses, or maybe earlier, the time of Abraham. God loved all of His people, but some of them were blessed in a special way that others didn’t. After they reached their adulthood, the name of their other halves’ will appear on a certain part of their bodies. God hoped they could thus find their destined soulmates, like how Adam got his Eve. Moreover, He loved them so much that He went on sparing His divine power to give these chosen ones a warn. If it was their fate, they would find another name, the name of the one who would eventually lead to their deaths. Thousands of years had passed, and people still didn’t know whether it was a blessing of love and happiness, or rather a chain on their necks.</p><p>At first, the stain just looked like an irregular dark patch across that small piece of skin. A few days later, the darkness faded away like clouds, leaving a name in crimson <em>– Judas</em>. “It was a blessing from God.” Mary told him with a smile. She believed that the name had nothing to do with death or doom. Because <em>Oh, look at my son! Who would hurt such a kind and pure boy?</em> “I’m so happy for you! One day you’ll find your soulmate, and you will be the luckiest and happiest man in the world!” She grinned fondly with a cheeky wink at her son, whose face turned pink from her words and a sudden self-consciousness.</p><p>Her elation rubbed off on the young boy, as Jesus perked up a little with a shy smile. In the next few years, he’d been holding this secret thrill and expectation in middle school and high school. Judas was a common name, after all (even one of his own brothers was named as Judas). Every time when he met a classmate, friend or just a random guy passing by, he would wonder, subconsciously, that whether he was the <em>one</em>. It became a hidden pleasure to make a guess, though with a mere glance he’d realize none of them was his <em>destined</em> Judas.</p><p>Not until he was twenty, when he met Judas Iscariot.</p><p> </p><p>He actually entered the college the same year as Judas did, though the latter stood out ever since the first year. Judas’ father was a Rabbi, renowned for his benevolence and piousness, but also for being a fuddy-duddy. Apparently he was very strict with his son’s education, as Judas had already learned to speak and write Latin, Greek and Hebrew before he started college. However, what set him apart from the crowds was his rebellion against the religious tradition of Judaism. Despite the fact that they’d never met in person, Jesus had heard enough stories about that famous debate around the controversial topic “<em>Does God exist</em>”, and how Judas, as the negative rebuttal speaker, helped his team win the victory with his sharp questions and aggressive arguments. It was said his father – Simon Iscariot was infuriated, and Judas was grounded for over a month, though being the assertive young man as he was, from a decent upbringing and had enjoyed good education, couldn’t care less about it. These young men were like saplings, bathed in sunshine, rains and breeze, ready to grow into sturdy trees. They were eager to swing their limbs, fight against the unfairness and inequalities, and sweep away the clouds of darkness hanging over their heads.</p><p> </p><p>The first time they met was at a party after the mid-term week. Judas, who caught Jesus’ eyes once he stepped into the bar, was playing some lighthearted Jazz on the piano in the corner of the stage, whilst young boys and girls swaying to the cheerful music in the confined space. His blond curls fell upon his shoulder and waved slightly every time his body bent to reach a certain key, with fingers dancing on the ivory effortlessly. Jesus could almost see those greenish-blue eyes under fluttering long eyelashes despite the dim light. His heart began to race as a thrill flooded throughout his body, and the skin inked with that name itched under his shirt. He wanted to walk across the crowd and have a closer look, to talk to him or give him a hug. Yet there was a small voice squeaking in his ear, warning him <em>not </em>to go. He was torn between two emotions that were equally fierce that he was nearly out of breath. Before he realized, he had slipped out of the heated space from the back door.</p><p>The air in the back alley of a bar was not pleasant at all, but at least some night breeze helped him cool down a bit. Jesus leaned on the scratched wall, half-heartedly listening to the music and laughs from behind the door and making a few deep breaths. Just as he was about to return to that noisy space and try his luck again, he heard soft footsteps approaching, slightly unsteady probably from being drunk. He looked up, only to meet a deep green of ocean shimmering under the moonlight. Judas lit a cigarette and took a drag with sheer bliss. Jesus watched silently; his eyes glued to those fingers holding the cylinder.</p><p>“Hey.” Came the curt greeting, as if he’d just noticed Jesus’ presence.</p><p>“Hey.” Jesus replied all too instantly, a small blush creeping up on his face. He paused, trying to find a topic. “You played very well.”</p><p>“Thanks mate.” Judas took another drag before glancing back at him. “You also a second-year?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m Jesus, major in Literature.” He flashed a genuine smile, the one that was liked by all his friends as he couldn’t help being conscious of the curve of his lips. Tentatively, he extended a hand towards the man.</p><p>Judas stared at his hands, his eyeliners a tad bit smudged from sweating. A few seconds passed, and Jesus started to feel awkward. He was about to say something to smooth it over, however, the next second Judas just pulled him in by that hand, and all Jesus could feel were the warm and soft lips pressing on his.</p><p>A <em>kiss</em> taste of tobacco.</p><p>His mind was shouting at him to push away. They had (officially) known each other for merely ten minutes, no need to mention that he’d just told Judas his name. The back door of the bar was all but two feet away, meaning any person would run into them. Howbeit, his heart was exclaiming with joy. It took Jesus only a blink to make up his mind. He wrapped around Judas’ broad shoulder, tugging at his chequered grey scarf to pull him closer.</p><p>That memory of that night was a treasure that Jesus held dearly in his whole life. Their kiss was light at first, but soon became passionate and long, neither being able to resist the sudden rush of strong chemistry sparkling between them. Judas’ hand slid underneath Jesus’ shirt, and the latter let out a contented sigh when those fingers with thin calluses pressed against his soft skin. They didn’t break apart until someone bumped out from the back door and waddled to the nearest corner starting to throw out. The disheveled boys fiddled with the buttons of their shirts. Judas ran a hand through his hair as he quickly glanced at Jesus before averting his eyes. “My old man’s a bit, eh, grumpy these days, so I can’t stay out too late…” He went on with eagerness on his face. “Give me your number?” Jesus nodded, and couldn’t find it more adorable when those beautiful green eyes lit up like jades in the dark night. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He leaned in to place a last peck on Jesus’ slightly swollen lips, and squeezed his hands lightly before they parted.</p><p>Jesus didn’t remember how he headed back home on his own. He felt lightheaded, as though he was treading on air and could almost hear angels singing merrily and flapping their wings. That night he lay in his single bed, clutching his phone by his side and hardly fell asleep before the dawn.</p><p> </p><p>However, he didn’t get a call the second day, nor the third or fourth. A week later, he heard rumors that Judas dropped out of the college. The boy who kissed him on that night just disappeared from his life, along with the destined <em>name</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He followed the dark-haired young man, in Galilee, Capernaum and Gennesaret…They visited one village after another, spreading the Words that have never been heard before – Words about <em>love</em>. He watched earnestly when Jesus preached to the crowds with eloquence and patience, recalling their faith in God. With those Words and all the miracles, more people started to believe in him and follow him. Nonetheless, when Judas returned to his tent late in the night lying in a bedroll by himself, he could hear a hoarse voice from the deep of his heart which was drained away years ago – No, this is not enough. When can we ride into Jerusalem? When can we bring down the brutal rule of Romans, and wash off the blood we’ve shed with theirs?</p><p> </p><p>“How’s your teacher been doing? Does he have any plan? Is he the one we’ve been waiting for?” Every time he returned to their hidden base, his rebel comrades would barrage him with these questions, though every time his had the same answer. “No. He doesn’t have a plan. I don’t know.” Barabbas, who was notorious even among the Zealots for banditry and murder, spit out with a sneer one day. “I would say we don’t need to have Judas follow him anymore. Just get him over here. I’ll beat him up and put a knife to his throat, and then God or whatever angels will surely let us know if he’s the Messiah!” The assassin had barely finished laughing when he was grabbed by the collar and pinned against the nearest wall. “You can have a try.” The words came out through gritted teeth, both the bulging veins on his forehead and the unmasked hostility glazing in his eyes indicating the outcome if he decided to do so. Barabbas was startled for a second, but quickly reacted by shoving Judas away, causing the latter to reel back before he pounced to strike again. Their fight didn’t escalate to more physical violence only when the other Zealots gathered around trying to stop them from going against each other’s throat. Then the oldest man in the room spoke up.</p><p>“Judas, I know you hate the Romans and I’ve never doubted your loyalty to Zealots. You need to understand that our one and only goal is to overthrow the Romans in Israel, to let them taste the poisons we’ve drunk for hundreds of years, to wash the blood of our people, of your <em>father</em>…with theirs.” Judas’ gaze dropped to the ground, his hands bawling into fists at his side. Ten years ago, when he returned home on that summer night only to find his father being taken away from the Romans and never came back, leaving his mother in tears, whom fell sick and stayed in bed for a few months before she died, he made a decision and gave up everything he had and cherished so far – piano, books, school, friends, and love. He grew his hair out into dreadlocks, he got tattoos on his left arm and started to wander in the neighborhoods that he’d never been stepped into. Even his closest friends from college wouldn’t be able to recognize him at all. Ever since that night his life, like a boat blown by the wind of fate, was forced to drift in a completely opposite direction eternally.</p><p> </p><p>He followed him closely, like a faithful sheepdog watching over his lamb. His eyes never left the slim young man, who ran from one village to another almost tirelessly preaching the gospels of salvation, of the kingdom of God. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of overwhelming protectiveness. They were not always welcomed, though. In some villages, ignorant and unrepentant peasants mocked at him, throwing stones and lemon peels at them. The rich, who’d snorted at what he taught and even feared that the poors would rob them off their possessions, were just happy to see they were rejected and driven out from the village. There were times Judas couldn’t stand those taunts and insults anymore and tried to fight back, yet was scolded by Jesus sternly. “Why do you bring a knife with you?” The young Rabbi frowned at him, his piercing gaze straight on Judas. “Why did you never learn from all these years? Violence won’t bring anything!” “It’s you who’ve not learned at all!” Judas snapped. “In Nazareth, your hometown, if Peter and I were not there you could’ve been killed, by those who watched you grew up!” He went on, ignoring Jesus’ paled face. “You said ‘<em>there should not be bleeding’</em>, but did David rule his kingdom with <em>love</em>? Did the Maccabeus fight against the Seleucids with <em>love</em>?” He couldn’t bear to see the hurt and disappointment in those dark eyes, so he turned and left without a word.</p><p> </p><p>Judas was not quite a talkative one among the apostles, even so the growing silence and tension radiating from the man didn’t go unnoticed. “Master, Judas seems to be quieter these days. I’m worried that he might be planning something behind our back. Heard he’s been close with Barabbas before…” John had talked to Jesus more than once, urging him to keep an eye on Judas. To his disappointment, his master just assured him with a warm smile. “Thank you, John, but we shall not suspect others out of no reason, especially among our own people.” The dark-haired young man made a light gesture just before John was about to protest. “I’ve known Judas…for a while. I know what a man he is. You don’t need to worry.” He patted on the shoulder of the loyal apostle, as the latter nodded though didn’t seem to be convinced. His eyes lingered on Jesus’ face with openly obsession and an underlying pit of jealousy.</p><p> </p><p>Judas was striding down the dark streets of Jerusalem. He tried to forget where he was heading to in the middle of the night, yet what happened a few days ago seemed to have burned into his brain - Jesus healed the daughter of that Roman centurion with his words, while he was not even invited to the latter’s house just because he was a Jew! Each of his step became faster, his lung almost hurt from inhaling too much cold air and coughing. The mere thought made his blood boil and head buzz from anger and muddle. Why did Jesus heal a Roman whom didn’t even want him in his house? When he was young and didn’t know the suffering in the world, like anyone born to privilege and with high self-esteem, he’d rashly denied God and even laughed at his opinionated father. However, as if it was a punishment from God, he was forced to <em>see</em> the power of this harsh Almighty through tears and blood after his parents’ deaths. His mind was in darkness now. If Jesus was really the son of God, the Messiah that was expected by Jews for hundreds of years, why did he treat Romans as though they were equal to Jews, even when the former’s hands soaked with the blood of latter? When thousands of their men vowed to follow him, to fight against Romans with their hammers and wooden sticks, why did he ask them to go back to work? They seemed to have come a long way compared to where they began, but when he looked into those beautiful dark eyes which he’d been drawn into for all these years, he realized something was missing. The glazing fire and passion were not there anymore (or were they there from the beginning?). There was no rage or sorrow, but only serenity, like a deep lake without waves. He’d never seen this young man closer to God than this moment, and it upset him more than ever.</p><p>“We don’t need a Messiah who bows to Romans.” He recalled the stern face of the old man in their hidden base. “If he doesn’t want to take on the responsibility of being a Messiah <em>to us</em>, to take the axe from God and fight the Romans for Israel’s freedom, then we should <em>make</em> him take it.” He turned away from the candleflame to face Judas, eyes shining with feverishness. “You know what to do. We only need an excuse, a chance, so he would take the axe and become the Messiah that we’ve expected for hundreds of years. So long as he steps forward, we will not harm him. We will protect him, protect our king till the end of our lives.” Judas came to a halt in front of a mansion that clearly stated the owner’s wealth and eminence. He took a shuddering breath, and knocked on the door.</p><p> </p><p>It was as though fate, or God had played another cruel trick on him. Judas was standing in the crowd when his former comrade was released, whose face he’d never thought would be so loathsome to him. Jesus was dragged roughly by two Roman soldiers, whom yanked his orange jumpsuit down to his waist to reveal his slim torso. What happened next made Judas’ heart sink below his knees as the world around him seemed starting to spin. Whip with a small piece of silver on its tip aimed ruthlessly at Jesus’ bare back, leaving long ribbons of blood on the light golden skin that he’d only dare to think of in his wildest dream during those lonely nights. The soft lips that have given so many eloquent speeches could only let out screams, then reduced to whines and whimpers after twenty lashes. After thirty, Jesus didn’t even make a sound. He was pulled up and carted off like a lifeless rack doll after the scourging. Then came the cold voice of Pilate – The purported Messiah, who had the audacity to declare himself as the son of God and King of the Jews, would be crucified tomorrow!</p><p> </p><p>It was a moonless night, even stars were obscured by ominous black clouds. Everything seemed to have fallen asleep, except for a dubious figure who was wearing a hoodie with a scarf covering his face as he slipped into the prison which was heavily guarded in this city. At odds with the gloomy air and surveillance cameras equipped almost everywhere in this suffocating space, there was all but a slim young man kneeling on the dank floor in his tiny cell. His disheveled dark hair fell around his shoulder as he clasped his hands together and prayed incessantly, voice rising with agitation and falling with desperation. He was so engrossed in his own world that he missed the small clink that followed by the quiet footsteps, until a hand touched his dark locks and stroking them softly. His eyes snapped open, and gaze straight on the man standing in front of him. His old friend, loyal apostle, yet present-day traitor.</p><p>They just stared at each other for a few seconds, while neither made a move or spoke. Then Judas started urgently. “Jesus, I know you won’t forgive me for what I’ve done. I shall be damned…But we can run! We can get away now, from the Romans, from the Jews. No one will be in our way.” His voice low but firm. When he saw the incredulity in Jesus’ eyes, he added immediately. “I didn’t kill anyone, just used some ether so they’re not bothering us…” He reached out to Jesus with cautions not to touch the wound on his back, yet the latter just shook his head and held his hand instead. “Jesus…?”</p><p>“I can’t, Judas.” The dark-haired Messiah held his gaze solemnly. “I’ve foreseen what happened today since years ago. It’s a mission I was born with. I was born on earth only to fulfill my Father’s plan.” He squeezed Judas’ hand as if to comfort him, his eyes glistering with unshed tears. “I forgive you, Judas. No, I’ve actually never blamed you, because you too, are an indispensable part in this <em>mission </em>and you just did what you had to. Please don’t blame yourself.” He put a finger to his lips before Judas was about to interrupt, and his face broke into a smile with tears. “I know you are the one. I always know.” He unbuttoned his clothes which was soaked in blood, to reveal his torso covered with horrendous wounds.</p><p>Judas’ breath caught when he saw that tattooed <em>name</em> on the left chest of the wrecked Messiah.</p><p>It was as if someone had punched him in his face, leaving him all but muddled. His heart thudded in his chest and he could feel his blood boiling and veins throbbing. All he could do is staring at the name. He wanted to scream, to yell, but at the same time also felt at a loss of words as he didn’t know whom he should blame, let alone what he should say. He touched the soft skin with a trembling hand, tracing the tattooed name inch by inch. In the end he was emotionally drained, as he buried his face in Jesus’ chest and let his tears fall on those dreadful wounds. Jesus wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer while running his fingers gently through his hair, as if soothing a wounded animal.</p><p>That night they did what they’ve been longing to do for ten years since they met in the back alley of that college bar, for the first time yet also the last time. Judas pulled Jesus in his arms, placing chaste kisses from his smooth forehead to the elegantly straight nose, and lingering on those parted lips while the only sounds unleashed from there were gasps and whines from pleasure. When he pushed himself gingerly in the young Messiah, he tried to be gentle, holding there to see if there’s the slightest trace of pain on the latter’s face. However, the dark-haired savior wrapped his legs around Judas’ waist and pulled him closer with eagerness, making him even more like a sacrifice, ready to be ravished and devoured. Judas felt beads of sweat trickling down his face now as his thrust grew faster and harder, as if he was punishing the young man for his deliberate temptation. Every thrust was deep enough to hit the spot that made the dark-haired virgin let out sweet moans - which his Father would definitely frown on-, and even cry out his Father’s name when the strong sensation washed through his whole being.</p><p>“Look at what you did to your own son!” Judas growled bitterly while his head was in a daze. “I’m the only one who loves him, who’s trying to make him happy, but <em>you</em> used me, you used us!” When both of them collapsed with ragged breath, Judas stroked the other man’s face gently and pulled a stray of the messy dark hair behind his ear. He leaned in to taste those lips that he’d never get bored with. His kiss trailed down to the thin chest and again, to the <em>name</em> that entwined their fate forever.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His vision blurred from dehydrating and loss of blood. He didn’t feel the agony anymore from where nails piercing his palms and feet, as his whole sensory system had gone numb. He tried to open his eyes under the eyelashes muddled with blood, and felt his heart ached when he saw Mary weeping at his feet; Peter, John and James gazing at them from afar, all with a look of unspoken sadness on their faces. Yet he was also relieved that at least Judas was not here, seeing him in this condition. The mere thought of his lover brought a smile to the corner of his mouth. Ever since the day he had the vision of their inevitable fate, he’d been wondering whether it was a bless, or a warn to have Judas’ name etched on his skin. It didn’t’ seem to matter anymore. The dark-haired Messiah turned his eyes up to the void of heaven, letting out a soft sign.</p><p>“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”</p><p> </p><p>What he didn’t know was on a hill not far away from Golgotha, the man who had led him to his crucifixion was holding a noose tied by his own scarf. “Jesus -”, He took one last look with both fond and sorrow, and then let go of his hands. Blond hair leaned forward as his head dropped lifelessly to his chest, revealing the nape of his neck that was always obscured, on which was the <em>name </em>he murmured with his last breath.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Fin</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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